


Is the Pen Mightier than Sexual Titillation? Stiles and Derek Investigate

by Cathbadh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal, Ass Play, Blow Job, Dancing, Fingering, I'm pretending there's not really a big age difference BTW, M/M, Rimming, Sex, Stripping, They have sex!, Twerking, ass popping, because like that's sort of how I think of them, but I know in canon this is underage, but he's so adorable, but screw that nope, maybe a little out of character for derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cathbadh/pseuds/Cathbadh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wants to write a poem. Derek wants to read it. Derek gets turned on. Whoopsies?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is the Pen Mightier than Sexual Titillation? Stiles and Derek Investigate

Stiles sometimes gets silly ideas; tonight is no exception. He opens his nightstand, and shuffles through to grab a pen and notebook. He starts to scribble.

This movement made the bed wiggle Derek. He asks, “What're you doing?”

“Writing something,” Stiles replies simply, focusing on the notebook.

“Oh.” Derek goes back to his own book. After a few sentences, Derek looks up again, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What are you writing?”

“You'll find out later.” Stiles keeps writing, but a moment later he has to twist away to keep the notebook out of Derek’s view. “Ah, ah, ahh! No peeking!” Stiles says, grinning.

“Fine, if you're going to be so secretive.” Derek returns to his book. He lasts a minute before he has to ask again. “If you don’t tell me, I won't tell you who hit on me today.”

Stiles doesn’t even look up. “Okay.”

Knowingly, Derek continues. “You’ll scream when you hear.”

“Of course.” Stiles keeps writing, not paying Derek any attention, who glares at the notebook.

“Fine.” Derek opens his book again. He reads the same paragraph three times, absorbing nothing, still focused on what Stiles could possibly be writing. Stiles rarely writes, and usually it’s something Derek either has to give a noogie, or a really good blowjob, over. He wonders if he should keep trying to read: it’s Anne Shirley! He can’t miss out on Anne with her ‘e’. What a fun, romantic girl she is. She reminds him a bit of Stiles; she never shuts up.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. This is ridiculous. Who cares what Stiles is writing? He's always doing something, gets an idea and runs with it to its end. Stiles said he would find out; why can't he be patient? Why does he need to know, now? He doesn't.

Yes he does.

“Please tell me?” He tries in a small voice. Stiles smiles; writes another line instead.

“Nope. Sorry.” Stiles reaches over and pats Derek on the arm absentmindedly. Derek imagines Stiles's smile curling into a cruel smile, lit by the delight of tormenting him. Derek hates imaginary Stiles.

“I'm leaving.” Derek throws the covers off, but doesn’t get out yet, letting his head drop to stare at the ceiling miserably.

Stiles writes another line. “Bye.”

Derek stays still for another two minutes--maybe it was three, he hopes it’s been three--sits up, throws his legs over the edge of the bed as if to stand, and stares at the wall. What can he do to make Stiles want to tell him? This is really uncharacteristic of you; you would call me an impudent child for these late-night shenanigans,” Stiles chides Derek.

“You're usually irritating in that bearable I-can-still-punch-you-and-knock-you-out kind of way, not this mental style of you-are-up-to-something-and-I-need-to-know-now kind of way.”

Stiles smiles to himself and writes more in the notebook; another sentence, Derek thinks.

“Actually I could knock you out, then just steal the notebook,” Derek muses.

Stiles pauses. “Hmm, you already did that,” he says to himself, frowning at the notebook.

“What did I do?” Derek turns to Stiles, giving his full attention, eager for more. “This is about me, then? Why are you writing about me? ”

Stiles decides not to answer. Derek groans and rolls his eyes in frustration. “I swear, if you don't tell me what you're writing I'm not going to be responsible for my actions!”

Stiles's eyes light up excitedly and he writes quickly for another few seconds. Derek huffs and lays back down again.

Derek gets a naughty idea. What might Stiles get distracted from this thing he’s writing? Sex, obviously. Derek smirks deviously. He’ll have to tempt Stiles with hot, steamy, dirty, sweaty sex.

Derek gets up slowly, and takes a deep breath. He faces Stiles, a wicked grin on his face. Stiles sees something in the corner of his eye, looks quickly, turns a little pink, looks back at his paper, and writes frantically. “I have an idea what you’re thinking, Der-Bear, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”

Derek doesn’t roll his eyes, takes it as a sign of impending victory. He looks down at himself, places his palm on his chest with his fingers stretched out. He brushes his hand down, listening to the sound of his night-shirt slowly brushed by his hand. He looks back up at Stiles. “You don’t think this will work?” he whispers, in a small come and fuck me voice. His hand lowers and grabs the bottom of his shirt, pulling it tight across his body. His other hand rubs against his abs.

Stiles keeps writing furiously, but Derek sees his blush darken. He then turns on some music, something soft, but with a nice, sensuous rhythm. Stiles’s brows come together, confused, and he looks up. Now’s Derek’s chance. He starts moving, swaying his hips and then spinning around to pop his butt out at Stiles. He hears a surprised cough.

He squats, the muscles of his thighs flex hard. He stretches his arms sideways, makes a fist and flexes. He turns slowly, starts twerking in and out to the music’s rhythm. His cheeks shake and flex. He would never admit it, but he had spent hours practicing and watching countless YouTube videos of the Official Twerk Team. Just in case, he told himself, just in case he needed to know. For a time like this. He stops his feeble attempts to justify his actions so he can focus.

He shakes his ass sideways, getting the right jiggle of his cheeks, and then twists them to face Stiles, and freezes. They put a serious strain on his underwear, the fabric tight. He turns perpendicular to Stiles, raising his arms straight up at the same time, then pops his chest out and in while twerking again, still in beat with the music. Now he slowly straightens himself, sliding his arm down his side at the same time.

Derek’s begun to sweat.

Standing fully upright, now, he turns his head and looks Stiles straight in the eyes. Derek grins again, turns his whole body towards Stiles. Stiles whips his head back to his notebook and writes furiously, the battle soon to be lost, and an even darker red travelling down his neck at full throttle. Stiles absolutely did not fail to notice the few beads of sweat trickling down the side of Derek’s face into his beard, or the way his nipples stood proudly against the inside of his shirt--quite noticeable and available to pinch--or the way his heavier breathing pushed his rippling six-pack against his shirt, or the way the silence of the now-over song seemed to scream Dereks loud puffing and Stiles own quickened, raucous breathing at such a hot performance.

Derek starts to pull his shirt up, exposing the bulge of his junk in his briefs. Stiles continues to write, somehow.

“You didn’t think I could distract you.” he whispers hoarsely to Stiles, in a small come and get fucked voice. His other hand holding to the hem of his shirt pulls back and tightens the shirt across his body. His other hand rubs his belly.

He pulls his shirt a little higher.

Now some flesh above his underwear shows, the dark belly hairs sticking out. Derek takes his free hand and moves it inside his shirt, rubbing skin and hair.

A little higher.

More of his belly is exposed, giving Stiles a better view. Derek moves his free hand lower, rubbing the outside of his underwear to get himself a little harder. Stiles isn’t looking at his notebook anymore, but he’s still writing.

A little higher.

His belly fully exposed now, he drops his free hand into his underwear, manipulating his cock directly now. Stiles yanks his gaze back to his notebook and realizes he hasn’t been writing on the lines properly.

A little higher.

Derek’s nipples stand free from his shirt, with a droplet of sweat shining on his areola. Stiles steals another glance, refreshing his crimson blush maximally and writes more.

A little higher.

Derek’s chest is fully exposed, and his face is covered by the shirt. He doesn’t see Stiles take another good look at his body. Derek’s free hand grabs one of his nipples and tweaks gently.

Derek rips the shirt completely off, and throws it down. Stiles fails to move his head back to his writing in time, and Derek grins down at him, victorious.

“You going to tell me what you’re writing now?” Derek coos.

“As much as that was amazing, and as much as I want to babe,” Stiles shakes his head as he talks, “I want to wait until morning to show you. I know you’ll really like it though.”

Derek looks thoughtful. “Maybe if I distract you a little more?” He leers at Stiles.

Stiles blush refreshes again. “At least let me finish,” he says, trying to bargain.

Derek pouts now, and slides a hand over his groin, reconsidering what he wants right now. “How about a compromise: you don’t finish, but I wait until morning to look?”

“Um.” Stiles says, pretending he’s not looking right at Derek’s crotch, which is exactly where his dick wants to be rubbing up against. With some effort, he tries to think of a decision. “What would you do while you wait?”

Derek snaps the elastic of his underwear against his belly. “Perhaps I could,” he pauses for effect and leans forward, “continue to entertain?” He hears Stiles swallow hard, smells that scent of arousal he’s come to know so well. He smiles down at his cock, currently trying to break free from the confines of his underwear. “Someone wants to come out to play.” He traces his fingers around the outside of the bulge. “Do you think we should let them out?” He palms himself, wrapping his fingers around the bulge. Stiles audibly pants. Derek continues: “I think we should let this special someone out to play. With us.” He lifts an eyebrow and looks back to Stiles, who swallows again. Derek snaps his undies again. “What say you?”

Stiles finally answers, with a passionate “Yes!” Stiles firmly sets aside his notebook while Derek stretches his underwear down, exposing the head of his cock. “Ohhh, someone’s happen to see,” he pauses again, then emphasizes: “us.” He holds the “s” sound, hissing at Stiles, who crawls on his belly to the edge of the bed to get a closer look at Derek. Stiles winks at Derek, who tries to gracefully get out of his undies.

Derek, groin now free from the confines of his briefs takes a step closer, and Stiles inhales the scent. “Delicious as always, babe.” Stiles looks up at Derek, and both their pupils dilate slightly. “Let me suck you, honey.” Derek closes the gap, and Stiles opens wide.

Stiles’s tongue slides along the bottom of Derek’s cock from the head to the beginning of his ballsack. The feeling of rough warmth and hot breath makes Derek hum warmly. Stiles takes his cock in and out again as it gains tensile strength.

Derek’s breathing starts shaking, and Stiles knows he’s done his job. A sucking-pop, as Stiles disengages from Derek’s crotch. Stiles looks up at Derek’s relaxed face as Derek opens his eyes. “My turn!” Stiles says excitedly. Derek nods.

Stiles lays back on the bed and Derek hops up next to him. He starts to suck. Stiles begins to twitch and moan as if Derek’s sucking a great force out of him. These things usually do that; werewolf mouths can suck a lot harder, with a force of undeniable will. Derek decides to go all out on sweet sweet Stiles: a long slurp with his tongue around his cockhead; an opened throat to swallow the head; even after sucking on a ball, derek sniffs.

“Love your scent, baby,” Derek murmurs. Stiles can only pant in reply.

A few minutes later, Derek asks if Stiles wants to turn over and get on all fours. Stiles flips over as fast as his sexed-out brain can make him move. Derek begins to rim. Stiles melts into the bed, making small whimpering noises and rests his chest on his pillow.

Not long after, Derek has his fingers slick with lube and three of them up Stiles ass. Stiles has barely moved, and can only whimper and pant.

Stiles’s hole loose, Derek moves in with his cock, condom shiny and dripping with lube. He pushes in and Stiles moans, ragged. Derek pauses for a moment inside, letting Stiles relax around him, and then starts to move. Soon he has a rhythm, a tap-tap-tap of his hips against Stiles ass, a small slick sound from the lube each time he’s in fully. Stiles shudders and moves his butt into Derek, wanting, needing more. The fucking wakes Stiles up again, and he lifts himself back onto his hands and pushes back to the rhythm, getting as deep a fuck he can get.

Stiles starts stroking himself; the feeling of Derek gripping his waist and sliding inside him, he needs some friction. He starts slow, and increases his speed a little with each movement Derek makes inside him. Derek slows down, leans over Stiles back to whisper into his ear: “Want me to handle that for you?”

Stiles groaned, then wiggles onto his back under Derek. Derek adds more lube, pushes into Stiles again, then grippes Stiles’s cock surely. Sliding his hand up and down to match his rhythm with his cock, Derek breathes out slow, and Stiles whimpers. Derek increased his pace, and within a minute Stiles comes. Derek slows his cock down as Stiles’s ass spasms with each splash of come, and removes himself. Derek finishes Stiles orgasm, while with his other hand strokes himself over the edge.

 

=====================================================================

 

Stiles smiles up at his lover, who lumbered towards the breakfast nook. “So, last night?” Derek grunts as if in reply. He puts down his cereal bowl across from Stiles, who continues: “I just wanted to write out all the ways I love you. I finished it before you got up. Here!” Stiles grins.

Derek takes the letter he had been desperate to read. His eyes slowly move across the paper.

_To my Lovey Bunny, Der-Bear_

Derek grunted incredulously. “Der-Bear? Lovey Bunny” Stiles flashes a smile. Derek is too tired to argue how ridiculous this is. He isn’t sure he wants to admit to liking it. He keeps reading.

_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways._

“This has been done. So. Many. Times. Why didn't you come up with anything original for me to make an utter and complete fool out of myself over?”

“Yes, blame your lover.” Stiles rolls his eyes. Then he patts Derek's cheek and smiles. “Scott had written one for Allison and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I tried it out. It worked very well. 10/10 would recommend.”

Derek glowers, then blushes and a small smile forms on his lips. He keeps reading.

_  
_

_I love your eyes_  
_I love your butt_  
_I love your cock_  
_I love your grumpy noises_  
_I love--_

Derek stops himself. “This is really repetitive.”

Stiles replies indignantly, “It’s a first draft! And you kept distracting me! What do you expect?”

Derek considers this. “I’m sorry. I should have let you write.” Derek glances over the beginning again and blushes. “It’s really sweet, actually.” He keeps reading.

_I love how you always like to know what’s going on, although right now you could friggen let me WRITE you nosey werewolf_  
_I love your nose_  
_I love touching your nose, it’s so soft and cute and I want to pet it_

Derek raises his eyebrow. “You want to pet my nose?”

Stiles brightens up. “Yeah!” Stiles reaches out and starts stroking Derek’s nose.

Derek can’t help but grin. “Alright.”

_ I love the way you are so fucking sexy _ _I love your ass_  
_I love your hot chest_  
_I love all your hot body_  
_I love it when you dance but seriously can I just finish this please? OH MY GOD_  
_I love it when you take off your clothes BUT MY GOD I CAN’T KEEP WRITING_

There are a few more scrawls that Derek can’t quite make out--and is that a drool splatter?--so he continues to the last lines, a little more legible. Stiles seems to have finished this part this morning.

_ I love the way you hold me when I wake up _ _I love the way you breathe_  
_I love the way your hair gets messy by the pillows when you sleep_  
_I love the way you snore_  
_I love how your breathing feels when you hold me tight_  
_I love waking up to you right next to me_  
_I love the way I wake up after a night of hot sex, with you lovely cock tired ready for more, I think it’s actually getting bigger again_  
_I love how you try to keep me in bed and tighten your loving grip even though I’m hungry and my stomach is going to wake you up_  
_I love saying good morning to you and kissing your forehead!!!_

_Love,_  
_Stiles_

Derek’s face scrunches up after getting all his heart-strings pulled.

Stiles smirks, a little too pleased, and says “Maybe I should get these sorts of ideas more often. I did enjoy myself last night.”

Derek grins. Maybe next time he’ll let Stiles finish. Stiles wiggles his eyebrows. Maybe not.


End file.
